The Half-Life
by LegionInfinity
Summary: Dr. Melody MacHallows wanted nothing more than to help people who couldn't fully be understood. She journeys deep into the mind of man, trying to find out what makes them tick. But when a minor accident causes her to be wrapped up in the adventure of a lifetime, she finds that the one person she could never understand...was herself. Rated T for deep themes.


When I was in college, my professors always told me that experience was the best way to learn and up until now, I ignored their advice.

35 years in the field of Psychology, catering to convicts and asylum patients, I thought I was a pro. I needed a wake-up call, and mine came in the form of an accident.

"What do you mean I can't go back to the prison?!" I shouted at Dr. Clair, loud enough for the whole office to hear. "It's not like he seriously injured anyone!" Dr. Clair raised a thin eyebrow and gave a pointed look to the cast I now wore on my right arm.

"He seriously injured YOU." I glanced down at the bright, neon cast, trying hard not to sneer.

"Well, if I can't go see him, can I at least go back to the asylum?" Dr. Clair shook his head slowly, and I let out a small sigh. "Well, then what do you propose I do for five weeks?"

"Well," Dr. Clair started, standing up and walking around to the front of his desk, "I would personally suggest that you go home and get some rest." I tried to cross my arms, but my cast kept getting in the way, so I settled on raising my eyebrows.

"I'm 55 years old. I can rest when I'm dead." Dr. Clair let out a deep chuckle.

"I figured you'd say that." With that, he reached over his desk and plucked a manila folder off the corner. He held it out to me and I greedily took it, like a starving child took a bit of bread. I flipped to the first page and stopped, slowly re-reading the words under "Condition." I let my hazel eyes flick up over my half-moon glasses, to where Dr. Clair was sitting on the edge of his desk. With a steady hand, I snapped the folder shut and held it out to him. Dr. Clair looked at me, "What? You don't want the assignment?" I tried not to let any of the aggravation I was feeling slip into my voice.

"We've been over this a million times, Doctor. I'm a psychologist, not a therapist." I turned on my heel and began to walk out of the room, placing the folder on a desk as I went.

"Wait!" Dr. Clair shouted after me. "Please! Their regular therapists didn't know who else to turn to!" I glanced back at him.

"Why would therapists be asking for ME to help with their patients?" Dr. Clair's blue eyes immediately got dark. "Melody, these kids saw something, something that shocked the eldest into silence. The younger one, her brain is AMAZING, she acts as though nothing happened. That's why they asked for you," Dr. Clair walked over and picked up the folder, handing it to me as he walked out the door. As he reached the frame, he turned to look at me, "They need you to find out why." And then I was alone.

When I arrived at my office, I gently shut the door and hung my "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door. I just needed to be alone. I saw down quickly in the chair by my door, sending a pain up my arm. Blinking away the tears, I gently opened the folder on my lap, allowing the thin, white papers to fan out. I picked up the first one, as usual, the patient was only referred to as "Patient A." We only get their names if they give them to us. I still refer to my last two patients as "Patient Z" and "Patient C."

I began to read through Patient A's file. She was female, mature side of sixteen, no known family. My eyes quickly traced through the other information, but my eyes eventually wondered back up to the first line I read, under "Condition" there was a short sentence, "Has been self-harmful for the past year and refuses to admit it."

I squinted slightly, refuses to admit it? What does that mean? My eyes skimmed over to the bright yellow sticky note stuck in the corner and they nearly popped out of my head. Her appointment was at 5! It was 4:45! I quickly shoved the file into my bag as I pulled on my white lab coat and rushed down the hall. I pushed the button on the elevator, praying for it to go faster. After about four seconds, I gave up and decided to take the stairs. As I ran down two stairs at a time, I began to worry. What would I be faced with?

What should I expect?

I quickly reached the 4th floor and pulled the door open. As I ran down the clean, carpeted hall, I checked the sticky note I had stuck to my hand. "Room A8." I said aloud to myself as I turned the corner, counting the rooms as I went. "A6, A7, A8!" I cried and I quickly ripped the door open and found myself stuck in a small room. The figure in the corner quickly looked up when I entered, allowing me to study her face. She had dark hair and eyes and her skin was lightly tanned.

"Hello." I said, trying to break the obvious tension that had been hanging in the air since I entered the room. "My name is Dr. Melody MacHallows, but you can call me Melody." The girl said nothing, only stared. I smiled awkwardly as I rushed over and sat in the other plastic chair, facing directly towards her. I pretended to pull out and look at her file. "It says here that you have inflicted self-harm on yourself. Is that true?"

"No." The sharpness of her answer startled me, causing my to let all the contents of my bag spread out onto the floor. I bent down and quickly began to pick them up, but was surprised to see a pair of young hands with silver nail polish begin to help me.

"Ah," I said, pulling myself back up into my chair, "thank you." She looked up at me and smiled. I was so surprised, I nearly dropped my bag again. No one, and I mean no one, EVER smiled at me in my line of work. It was a...a nice surprise. Just as she sat back up in her chair, her phone went off. She pulled it out of her pocket.

"Oh no! I have to go!" She stood up quickly and rushed to the door. As she ran out into the hall, I stood up and followed her.

"Wait! I never did get your name!" She turned back and gave me a slight smile.

"Aryan!" she shouted over her shoulder, "Same time next week?" I didn't know the answer, but I know she would be back, so I would too. As I walked back up the hall, I shook my head. "Aryan. What an odd name for someone with her appearance." As I walked down the hall, I began to think about not the way she looked in general, but the way her face looked, and I swear,

I had seen it somewhere before.


End file.
